Albino
by eternite z
Summary: Schuldich, Crawford, rhinoceroses. A subject I'm sure has never been touched.


**Author's Note:** I really don't know where this came from. My mind is a mystery, even to me. 

**Albino**

Schuldich was staring with such intensity that Crawford feared a hole would be burned through the thick pages of his newspaper. The extra attention unnerved him, confused him, and angered him all at once. He wasn't a television, he wasn't a display, and he definitely was not there for the German's amusement. 

Crawford gave a small grunt, hoping to convey his annoyance without actually opening his mouth and voicing it. Schuldich tilted his head, expression revealing he was now deeper in thought. Crawford grunted again, louder - too loud; he choked out a cough, having unintentionally tickled the back of his throat in his attempt to show displeasure. Schuldich remained silent, body unmoving, still entranced. 

The house was empty, Schuldich was staring, Crawford was the only one making noise. 

The American dropped the paper on the kitchen table to cover his mouth as he let out several more strangled coughs. There were no worried questions from his teammate, no "Are you okay?" or "Do you want some water?", and for some reason Crawford found the indifference towards his situation more embarrassing than if Schuldich had made a fuss over it. 

Finally ridding his throat of discomfort, Crawford reached once again for the newspaper lying on the table. He turned to a random page, not caring where he had left off, only concerned with putting up a quick and easy shield to protect from the piercing gaze that threatened to madden him completely. 

Schuldich pursed his lips, view once again obstructed by the 50-cent-piece-of-crap known as the daily news. The only indication it was Crawford behind that wall were the strong, rough hands that kept the paper steadily in place. Fighter's hands, boxer's hands. 

He was the leader, he was in charge, and yet he still had to resort to physical means when fighting. Not like Nagi. ...Schuldich could avoid it if he wanted to. Then what made Crawford so special? Why did _he_ get to make the decisions? Why did _he_ get to boss everyone around? 

Why did _he_ get paid more? 

Schuldich shifted his weight slightly, body stiff after sitting for nearly an hour. He blinked his dry eyes reluctantly, upset he still hadn't found an answer - at least not one he deemed interesting. He always seemed to return to the same uncomplicated, obvious conclusion: Crawford was scary as hell. 

Schuldich was fairly certain that in a fight to the death between Crawford and a six-legged albino rhinoceros, Crawford would win. He would just stare at it and the rhino would freeze with fear. ...Then the rhino would fall over, because it would be funny and it would make the ground rumble, which would be neat. 

A breathy chuckle escaped the German's lips as he pondered the death match. The older man looked at Schuldich briefly, already accustomed to his odd quirks. Between the insanity that was his mind and the insanity of having _other_ minds invade his own, Schuldich often said or did nonsensical things spontaneously. For the most part, they were not life-threatening. 

Rhino's are funny creatures, Schuldich decided. "Rhino's are funny creatures," he shared. 

Crawford brought his attention away from the newspaper. "Yes," he replied, voice monotone. "Yes they are." He went back to reading an article regarding the coming elections. He didn't really care about the elections as he couldn't vote (one, because he was not a citizen of Japan, and two, because these particular elections were taking place in a different district) but he read the article anyway, if only to ignore Schuldich. 

"What is _your_ opinion of rhinoceroses?" 

"...They're nice." Crawford shrugged it off, uninterested. He turned the page carelessly, flapping and straightening the pages more than necessary to create an excessive amount of noise. It bought him five seconds. 

"What do you think about fighting them?" pursued the younger man after the commotion had died down. 

"They are endangered, are they not?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than Crawford wondered why he had spoken at all. 

"I'm not talking hunting, I'm talking fighting. Like hand-to-hand combat." Schuldich rested his weight on his arms and leaned in closer, not wanting to miss his leader's response. 

Crawford was about to retort with the fact that rhinoceroses do not have hands, but bit his tongue. "Oh. Yes, of course," he replied instead, doing his best to humor his companion. "Well, in that case, I would have to say I discourage any sort of rhinoceros battling. It is terribly dangerous." 

"Yeah..." Schuldich let his words trail off, then sighed dreamily. "But the _glory_..." 

The newspaper lowered just enough that if Schuldich had been looking, he would have seen Crawford's right eyebrow furrow, a look that silently said, "You're a loon." But he wasn't looking. Rather, his attention was directed at the white wall straight ahead of him, his eyes glazed over in awe just thinking about the fame that came to those who fought rhinos in battles of the fist. 

Crawford extended his hand, reaching for his cup of coffee and raising it to his mouth. Amber eyes narrowed from above the cup, never leaving the paper. The entire right side of the newspaper had flopped over, his hand no longer supporting it. It was one of the little things that just seemed to bring so much annoyance. He set his cup down again and resentfully snapped the paper back into a stiff position. 

Schuldich also snapped back to reality. He reached out, pulled Crawford's hand down slowly...stared, lips curling. "Let's go to the zoo." 

Crawford jerked away and turned another page. "Hell no."


End file.
